FEBRUARY

As soon as he left the Quidditch field, he headed for his dormitory. His heartbeat did not slow down. With his hair down and his cheeks flushed, Draco rushed into his dorm and stumbled upon Ginny. She examined him carefully.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You look... I don't know."

Draco ran his hand through his hair in hopes of combing it back a bit. "Uh... I... yes? I think so?"

Ginny frowned, unconvinced. "If you're not feeling well, I can do the rounds tonight alone—"

"No," he cut in quickly. "It takes two."

"I can ask—"

"Freckles, please," he said. "I won't let you do the fucking rounds alone or with Zab."

Ginny smiled slightly and smoothed her witch's robe. "Will you come down with me to dinner?" she asked as usual.

She always asked him that question, but for the past month he had always said no. However, this time, biting his tongue to stop himself from answering spontaneously, he nodded.

"Okay."

Ginny raised her eyebrows but did not comment. They walked down to the Great Hall together, Draco keeping his hands in his pockets, head full of wind and the healing revelation he had experienced. The Gryffindor glanced at him sideways. He was different. She didn't know how exactly, but he looked different. A little more relaxed. A little more at peace. Draco took a seat at the end of a table, wedged between Harry and Blaise, facing Ginny and Ron. They all looked at him, a little surprised, but decided not to make any remarks. Draco ate a full dinner for the first time in a month.

That week, Draco Malfoy ate all his evening meals. His appetite was not great, but he forced himself to finish his plates. He was able to exchange a few words of conversation, even with Potter, but it was more difficult with Weasley. Ginny and Blaise publicly exchanged small signs of affection, but they were very subtle. Draco couldn't help but envy them.

He continued to go to the infirmary every day, but refused to tell her the words that were now burning in his mind. When he would say them, it would be to her awakened face. Because he knew now that he loved her, it was easier to hope that he could soon share that love with her. Maybe she didn't love him, maybe she wouldn't be ready, but he knew that no matter where she was at, nothing would change on his end. He wanted to treat her. He wanted to give her everything she wanted. His arms, his lips, his body, everything was hers. His smile, his ideas, his time, all hers. His heart, his life, everything he was, all hers.

A crazy idea came to him as soon as February began. Valentine's Day was coming up, and it was the perfect opportunity to celebrate his feelings with her. He began to hope, day by day, that February 14 would be the fateful date when she would open her eyes, summoned by whatever he was planning. He would prepare the perfect date. He got candles. He shaved every day. He started working out again in the morning.

Harry had started to hang out with him a little more often, in the sole hope of defusing all the rumours that were still circulating. No one could think too badly of Malfoy if Harry Potter himself was hanging out with the Slytherin publicly. Harry kept thinking about this MacMiller, MacMillan, Black, Sirius thing. He felt he knew the answer, but just before he reached it, it slipped away.

Harry was starting to think he was getting through to Draco. He was beginning to think that Draco was putting up with from that 'Potter' he didn't mind spitting out sarcastically a lot of the time, Draco was much more civil with him.

Whatever happened, Harry thought, it was changing him.

On February 9th, Draco and Harry were in the Room of Requirement for their fifth lesson. Draco had not yet made any progress, but he no longer pushed Potter's hand away when he offered him chocolate. By their third lesson, the Room, sensing their need, had provided them with a Boggart in a cupboard. Harry's Boggart was still a Dementor, because every time he was confronted by one, he heard his mother's screams from inside his head. It was the thing he dreaded the most. Harry had decided to show Malfoy how to perform a Patronus on a Dementor. He refused to let the Slytherin face the Boggart though, fearing to see what it might turn out to be. Harry guessed it would perhaps have something to do with Hermione, or something horrible related to his role as a Death Eater.

After a third unsuccessful attempt, Draco dropped onto the sofa, panting. Harry squinted and scratched his head. "Mind telling me what you're thinking about?" he asked. "When you're trying..."

The blonde Slytherin shrugged. "I...uh, about her. I think about when she wakes up."

Harry would have smiled, but he pursed his lips instead. "I know you... erm, like... Hermione, but you can't think of something that should or will happen in the future. It has to be something that's already happened."

Draco let out a deep sigh and frowned. The Gryffindor suddenly looked a little embarrassed and massaged his neck with one hand. "Maybe... erm... a kiss?" he offered.

The Slytherin stared at Harry. Well, it looks like everyone knows or guesses everything, anyway, he thought with a hint of annoyance. He decided to smile mischievously instead. "So... a kiss would work, then?"

Harry looked away. "Yeah, Draco. It might be enough... It all depends on who you kissed and... how you felt. How strong it was."

Draco thought of her immediately, the smell of her hair, the shape of her mouth against his. He felt lighter, bit into a piece of chocolate, and let his smile grow even more cheeky. "You know, Granger and I kissed, Potter," he said. "Just before the Ball..."

"All right, all right, I don't need to hear it. Just think about it and... erm, reach for that emotion. Okay?"

But Draco continued, only for the pleasure of seeing Potter blush even more. "—and even a week before the Ball, in fact. And several times after…"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Malfoy. Focus."

The Slytherin got to his feet, swallowing his last bite of chocolate. He stood and closed his eyes. Slowly, he allowed himself to be overcome by the first kiss he had shared with her. Her ardour, her vigour. She was clutching his hair. She clung to him. He squeezed her. He caressed her. He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in again. This. This was what he had needed. This was what he knew he would need from now on, constantly.His heart quickened. He let himself slip back into the primal emotion that had run through him in that first kiss. It was the closest he'd ever come to happiness.

With his eyes still closed, soaked in memories, he raised his arm.

"Expecto Patronum!" he recited.

He opened his eyes when he felt his hand tingle. Little silver sparks were flying from his wand. Harry held back an exclamation of surprise. It wasn't even a vapour, it wasn't even close to resembling any form or incorporeal Patronus, but it was the first time anything had come out of his wand.

"Yes!" exclaimed Harry. "Yes, Malfoy! Almost there!"

Draco lowered his arm and dropped back onto the sofa in a daze. The shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. Noticing that the Slytherin had almost managed to do a Patronus while allegedly thinking about his kisses with Hermione, Harry got the confirmation he had been after for weeks, months even. Draco Malfoy was totally and definitely into Hermione Granger.

His eyes grew wide as the answer he'd been looking for for weeks crashed into him against all odds.

"That's it!" he exclaimed.

Draco frowned without answering. Harry gesticulated eagerly, starting to make quick movements with his hands.

"At Sirius' house, actually the former Order's headquarters, there was a tapestry. The Black family tree."

The Slytherin almost dropped his wand. He pressed his hands against his face. "Bloody hell, of course," he mumbled. "The House of Black…"

He put his hands on his hips, and took a seat on the sofa. Harry stood before him.

"My mother only took me there once," Draco said. "I was very young. She showed me the family tree and did a spell to update it. My name appeared under hers afterwards."

"I have the impression that there are several objects that can be magically updated?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. Especially when it comes to Pureblood lineage. I don't know why."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because you're so important, obviously," he said sarcastically, jokingly.

Draco said nothing, hands on his hips, eyes fixed on the Gryffindor.

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "You're going to ask me to go with you, aren't you?"

"I can't even remember where it is... and last time I remember there were several wards."

"I know them," said Harry.

He didn't explain further, and Draco didn't ask for details. The blond wizard looked at his watch. "We could go now."

Harry nearly choked. "What, now now?"

"Yes, Potter. Once we get to Hogsmeade, we'll apparate, then it's a matter of minutes in the house before we get back. We'll be back before curfew."

"What if we're late?"

Draco shrugged. "You'll get detention like in the good old Umbridge era," he replied. "But at least you'll spend it with me."

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't particularly like the idea, it was already dark outside, and he didn't want to get caught by the Aurors roaming the castle and the grounds.

"I know a few secret passages that will lead us to Hogsmeade," he said in an obvious tone.

Draco held out his arm towards the Room's exit. "Lead the way, then."

They left the Room of Requirement and Harry walked briskly towards the secret passage. Harry would have preferred the passage that led to Honeydukes, but it had been destroyed the year before. Although he no longer had the Marauders' map in his possession, he had memorised the passages well enough over the years. He smiled as he thought of Fred, who was probably smirking at him from wherever he was. Harry led Draco up to the fifth floor, in the south wing, where he stopped just in front of a portrait of a vase full of colourful flowers. Harry pulled out his wand.

Draco looked around to make sure they were alone. "Are you serious, Potter?" he grumbled.

"Be patient," sighed Harry.

He flicked his wand, tapping three times against a single flower in the portrait, which changed colour. The portrait creaked and opened immediately. Harry slipped inside, followed closely by Draco. The Gryffindor closed the portrait behind him and the blond wizard lit his wand to see ahead.

"Well..." Draco said, surprised. "All you had to do was change the colour of the flower?"

"Yep," Harry replied.

The passageway was narrow so that the two of them couldn't stand side by side, and low enough that they had to bend their heads to move forward, especially Draco. It was damp, murky and downright sinister.

"Spooky," muttered the Slytherin.

"It leads to the Three Broomsticks loo."

They walked down the dimly lit passageway under Draco's Lumos, which Harry soon copied. They exchanged no words. The Head Boy was beginning to get a serious sore neck, bent over like that, but he said nothing. After what seemed to them both an eternity, they reached the end of the passage, where a wooden door was closed.

Once they were in front of it, Draco and Harry caught their breath for a few seconds, hands on their knees. Harry straightened slightly, switched off his wand and muttered "Alohomora."

The lock clicked and the Gryffindor pushed the door open. The smell of Butterbeer immediately hit them, along with a general hubbub. The two wizards stepped out of the passage and closed the door behind them. They were in the corner of the toilet, right between the women's and men's doors. Draco turned and looked at the door they had just passed through. He opened it again but saw nothing but clean cloths, brooms, scrubbers and a few bars of soap.

"I bet we need to change a soap colour," he guessed, pivoting towards Harry.

"Actually, we'll have to make it foam."

"It's genius."

They left the pub through the back door and the cold air seized them. They hadn't bothered to get coats. They mumbled a few spells to stay warm. Harry didn't want to waste any more time. He grabbed the Slytherin's elbow and apparated the next second.

They landed just outside 12 Grimmauld Place. In fact, it was the numbers 11 and 13 that were on the tall buildings in front of the two wizards. The street was deserted, except for a few muggles who were walking much further along.

"It used to be nicer than this," Draco frowned.

"You're not inside yet."

Harry raised his wand and recited the spell to lift the ward on the house. The facade parted and split, beginning a slow detachment, the further apart numbers 11 and 13 became. No one seemed to hear or notice the change that was taking place. Draco watched, mouth half open, as number 12 appeared, and finally the houses stopped moving.

Without waiting, Harry walked past and up the porch stairs. After another Alohomora, Harry entered the house first and was overwhelmed by a multitude of memories, happier and sadder. He thought of Sirius. Of the many meals they had shared here with the Order. Of the evenings with Ron and Hermione when they had started their hunt for Horcruxes.

His throat went dry.

Draco glanced at him. "Are you all right, Potter?"

Harry nodded simply, wiped his nose on his sleeve and strode purposefully towards the stairs that led to the upper floors. Draco looked around. He could hardly remember anything. The layer of dust was thick. His heartbeat quickened with anticipation. He hoped it worked.

Harry stopped in an empty room and flicked open the lights. The tapestry was just as he remembered it. Covering all the walls of the room, the branches of the tree circled and snaked, ending in circles with a person's portrait and name.

"I do remember this room," Draco whispered.

Harry began to examine the tapestry more closely, looking for the name 'MacMillan'. "There are only Blacks," he remarked after a short while.

Draco followed suit and examined the tapestry on the opposite wall. "The Blacks are connected to several families. They must be here somewhere. Let's find them first, then we can update it."

The two young men examined the tapestry, their noses almost glued to it, for many minutes. They both didn't know which bloodline to look for, so they tried to look at everything. The dates of birth were also displayed.

"Found it," Harry said after a while.

Draco swiveled around and walked to the corner of the room where Harry was. He had his finger pointed higher on the wall, almost behind the door.

"That's the first MacMillan I've seen," Harry said. "Melania MacMillan."

Harry traced with his finger, without touching the tapestry, the names they were reading as they went along. Draco followed the line with his finger, focused.

"Melania MacMillan married Arcturus Black III," read Harry. "They had two children, Lucretia and Orion Black."

"From there on, it's a split," Draco remarked. "MacMillan on one side and Black on the other."

"If we follow Orion's name, he married Walburga Black, who was Sirius' mother. Walburga was the sister of Cygnus Black III…"

"My grandfather," muttered the Slytherin.

"I guess you know the rest of the line then," Harry concluded. "Your name appears right there," he added, pointing to a name at their thigh height.

The wizards looked up.

"If we now follow Lucretia Black," Harry continued, pointing his finger again at the woman's portrait, "she married Alabaster MacMillan. They had three children, Violetta, Benjamin and Zacharias. Violetta married a Bullstrode, and Benjamin married Lesley Rowle. Benjamin and Lesley had two sons, Lamar and Peter MacMillan. And Peter...

Harry paused. Draco stared where Harry had left off. "Peter is Ernie's father," the blond man said. "How stupid that we didn't think of that guy at all…"

"If we can see Peter's offspring, that means we can check to see if Lamar had any children, who would be of our generation…"

"Lamar married Anita Goldhorn," read Draco. "But there's nothing underneath."

"Do your spell."

The Slytherin didn't move immediately. Why was he hesitating? He reached into his wizard's robes to remove his wand and pulled out a trembling hand. Harry sensed his hesitation, but did not press him.

"Even if we see Duncan appear," Draco breathed, "how will we know it's really the same Duncan we knew?"

"Hermione's Duncan had the same birthday as me," Harry blurted out.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Wow, that sucks."

Harry shrugged, and the blonde wizard raised his wand, pointing at the tapestry.

"Remind me again why you can update the tapestry and I can't?" asked the Gryffindor.

"A woman can only add her own offspring, but cannot update the tapestry. Only the male heirs of the Black family can do it. Maybe it's already been done, and all that's written is all there is…"

"Maybe. Do it."

"Renovare Familia."

Nothing happened for several seconds. Draco lowered his arm, looking down at the tapestry at Lamar's name level. Harry held his breath. After a few moments, Harry lowered his shoulders and turned away, looking disappointed.

"It didn't work," he muttered. "Or maybe there's no next generation…"

Draco kept his eyes fixed on both Lamar and Anita's names, hoping to see something appear. After what seemed like a long time, he wanted to turn away, but didn't.

"Oh, wait," Harry whispered behind his back.

He had just noticed that the tapestry was being updated from one wall to the next. Names and portraits were being added here and there. Others were moving to make room for new ones. The update travelled slowly to the wall that Draco was still staring at.

"It's coming your way," said Harry, impressed.

Ten seconds later, the spell slid down the wall where Harry and Draco had been studying the MacMillans' lineage. Names, meaningless but new, were added a little higher up. The spell moved slowly down, like a liquid veil over the newer names, until it reached Lamar and Anita's. Draco bit his lip and closed his eyes for two seconds, not knowing what he really wanted to see.

When he opened them again, he couldn't breathe. A new name sat beneath both parents.

Duncan MacMillan (July 31st 1978)

Harry ran a hand through his hair, lips pursed. Draco blinked, as if to check that it was really true, and watched the last breath of the spell on the last names. Then nothing more moved or was added.

"That's him," Draco said through his teeth. "Hermione's ex-boyfriend is a Pureblood who was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

Harry didn't know what to say.

When Draco and Harry returned to Hogwarts through the same passage, about an hour had passed. They arrived half an hour before curfew. They parted ways almost as soon as they stepped out of the portrait. Draco's head was spinning. He didn't have time to visit Hermione in the infirmary before returning to his dorm. But he had to talk to Blaise. Blaise would know what to tell him. Why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't she told him that she had been in a relationship with a Sacred 28? Had she only been in a relationship with him because he was part of this so-called 'elite'?

Draco's stomach tightened as another random question came to him. What if she was only pretending to be attracted to me because I'm also part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?

His mind was buzzing. His soles clattered on the cold tiles of the corridors. He rushed towards the dungeons, even though he had no desire to see the Slytherins again. But with twenty-five minutes left before curfew, Blaise had to be there.

Draco entered the Slytherin common room and headed straight for the boys' dormitory, ignoring all the stares from the few students hanging around on the sofas. He stormed into the dormitory, startling all the boys present, including Blaise.

"Get out!" he shouted to everyone.

No one moved. Blaise put down his book, not surprised, and stood up, book clutched in one hand. With the cover of the book, he struck the shoulder of the nearest Slytherin.

"Come on, you heard the man!" he exclaimed. "Beat it!"

He looked at his other roommates. "Just five minutes," he added.

The Slytherins grunted, annoyed, and moved one after the other out of the dormitory, glaring at Draco as they went.

"What's the matter?" breathed Blaise when the others had all gone out.

"MacMillan is MacMiller." Draco had started pacing, visibly agitated.

Blaise blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, it is. I was able to confirm this with an old tapestry at the House of Blacks."

"Okay, so…"

"She knew!" Draco shouted, quickly losing control.

"The fuck you talking about?"

"How could she not know the identity of the one she dated? Why didn't she tell us, Blaise? Why all this time did she have us looking for MacMiller when we should have been looking for MacMillan?"

"Draco, wait. Do you really think our search would have been any different?"

"Of course it would!" the blond man snapped. "All this time we were looking for her ex-boyfriend, a nice guy who received letters from his girlfriend! We should have been looking for a MacMillan, a Pureblood, murderous, and possibly on Voldemort's side!"

Blaise grabbed his friend's elbow to stop his pacing. "You just said it, it's the same person," he grumbled.

"Get off me!" Draco snarled as he pulled away roughly. He dropped onto Blaise's bed, sat down, and buried his head in his hands. "Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't she tell me, Zab?"

Blaise sat down beside him. "She didn't know," he said. "Come on, Malfoy, it's obvious!"

"Maybe the only reason she kissed me back is because I'm also a Sacred Twenty-Eight…"

Blaise, frowning, snapped his fingers in front of his friend's face. "Wake up, mate. You're getting fucking delusional."

Draco said nothing. One of his legs was starting to twitch with a frantic tempo.

"We're talking about Hermione Granger," Blaise said. "Granger. Your Granger. A bookworm. A Miss-know-it-all, always on the heels of Potter and Weasley... You know as well as I do that she didn't know."

Everything was racing through Draco's mind. He had fallen in love with her, he knew that now... But what about her? What did she feel for him? And more importantly, why?

"Don't tell me I know her better than you do," Blaise snarled at his friend's silence.

Frustrated that Draco wouldn't say anything more, Blaise jumped to his feet and started pacing back and forth, annoyed and impatient.

"If she'd known all along that he was MacMillan," he said, speaking rapidly, "she wouldn't have written his last name! She would have just written 'Duncan'! Do you really think she's that stupid? Why do you want to sabotage what you have with her?"

Blaise had stopped in front of his friend, still sitting on his bed. His eyes flashed, and then his expression changed as he appeared to understand something.

"You don't really believe deep down that you and her can happen, do you?" he spat. "So you're trying to sabotage what you already have. You're looking for reasons, excuses, to prove that it never would have worked, right?"

Draco peeled his hands away from his face and noticed that they were wet with tears. He hadn't realised he was... crying? Why wasn't he making any noise?

"It's already sabotaged," he forced out of his throat.

Blaise blinked. "What?"

"It'll never work, anyway," Draco said, louder. "She's not even... awake—"

"Draco, come on... You know she'll wake up. In the meantime, you can't expect every day to be THE day. The best is yet to come."

The blonde wizard stood up and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Blaise pretended not to notice. Draco walked over to his friend and looked him in the eye.

"I know it would work," he said. "I'd do anything to make it work."

"I know, Malfoy. So you realize she didn't know anything?"

"I do. She didn't know any more than we did."

They exchanged the faintest of smiles meaning that they understood each other. Blaise grabbed Draco's shoulders and gently pushed him towards the door.

"I have to throw you out, I know some unhappy Slytherins."

Draco's mood improved drastically as the days went by, the closer Valentine's Day got. His rounds with Ginny were no longer so quiet, and his conversations at meals no longer so cold. His daily visits to the infirmary were filled with excitement, optimism and hope. Always keeping Hermione's hand between his, he repeated to her, day after day, the plans he had for her on February 14th. The element of surprise was not what he was looking for. He wanted her to hear him, somewhere in her coma, and have his voice, his promises, draw her quietly to the surface. She would emerge on February 14th, he was certain. And this hope, this conviction, kept him in control of himself. He had something to hold on to, for the first time in almost two months.

Blaise had noticed what was happening. But he didn't want to be "that guy". The guy who destroys hopes. The guy who has to bring his friend back to reality. Draco had lost almost everything that night at the Ball, and Blaise wanted to let him have this one thing. And that thing was February 14th, and the hope that his Hermione would wake up to share that day with him.

On Saturday February 13th, at three o'clock in the afternoon, Draco greeted Agnes as soon as she emerged from Madam Pomfrey's office. She was used to his presence during her visits every Saturday.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "How are you this week?"

"Fine. Better."

The Slytherin watched every movement of Agnes bent over Hermione's bed, intrigued by the spells that allowed her to know the pulse, the 'blood pressure', and the oxygen level in the blood. He watched, speechless, as the Healer opened the Gryffindor's eyelids and pointed the tip of her luminous wand at her eyes to see the response from her irises.

"Nothing has changed," she finished, looking at Draco. She offered him a small smile. "Maybe soon."

"Tomorrow," the young man replied. "I have a feeling it will be tomorrow…"

Agnes frowned. "Mr. Malfoy—"

"You can say what you want," Draco cut in without being cocky, "but something tells me that she'll wake up tomorrow."

"In this kind of situation, there's no way we can confirm that—"

"Please," Draco interrupted, his throat closing and his eyes pleading. "Let me believe it. It's the only thing I have. She'll wake up tomorrow."

Agnes did not answer him and pursed her lips. She noted her observations from the visit in Hermione's file and pressed the Slytherin's shoulder as she left.

As soon as Draco woke up the next day, he rushed to the infirmary, kissed Hermione's forehead and took her hand. Then he never took his eyes off her.

"Today is the day, Hermione," he whispered. "Today you come back to me."

And he waited.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Blaise visited the infirmary three times during the day. They found Draco in the same position, sitting on the end of his chair, staring at Hermione's face. On their first visit, they stayed with him for an hour, huddled around Hermione's bed, almost hoping to see their friend wake up. On their second visit, after lunch, they stayed for thirty minutes. On their third visit, before dinner, they stayed ten minutes, their shoulders a little lower, before heading off to eat.

At nine o'clock in the evening it was only Blaise and Ginny who entered the infirmary. Draco had his head buried in his arms, which were laid on Hermione's bed at hip level.

Ginny placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Draco," she whispered. "Please, you should eat…"

Silence. The redhead looked at Blaise and he pursed his lips. After a few moments where they were almost certain Draco was asleep, his shoulder twitched.

"I'm not leaving," Draco replied, his voice muffled by his arms.

"Mate," Blaise dropped to his knees beside his chair, hoping to catch Draco's gaze. "Let it go. We all hoped—"

"I'm not leaving," repeated the Head Boy.

"The infirmary will close to visitors anyway..." said Ginny. "Please, we don't like to see you like this..."

"She'll wake up."

Blaise and Ginny exchanged a look over the Slytherin. Ginny's lips trembled. "No, Draco," she whispered, her voice quavering, "she won't. Not tonight…"

Draco jerked his head up and looked into his 'partner's' eyes. His eyes were swollen, red, and wet. He had been crying. "What do I have left if she doesn't wake up?" he spat, new tears beading at the corners of his eyes. "NOTHING!"

Ginny also knelt down beside his chair, on the other side of Blaise, to better look at Draco. She put her hand on his arm and swallowed the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes.

"She'll wake up," she said. "But not tonight... You must let her go for tonight."

Draco clenched his fists and leapt to his feet, grabbing Ginny's wrists violently. He glared at her, completely ignoring Blaise to his left.

"Who the hell do you think you are, you ginger tart, telling me what to do!" he snarled spitefully before pushing her away.

"Fuck, Draco!" Blaise exclaimed, stepping between him and Ginny. "Don't fucking talk to her like that!"

Ginny, who was massaging her wrists, bit her lip. "It's fine, Blaise…"

Blaise turned back to her, while Draco dropped back into his chair, his head in his hands. "No, it's not! He can't touch you like that, Ginny! Did he hurt you?"

"No," she lied, immediately lowering her arms.

Blaise sighed, took Ginny's hand and turned back to Draco. "Listen, mate," he grumbled gruffly, "I came here to help you. But now you've pissed me off. We've saved you some food. Harry and Ron are waiting for us all in the park. There's still an hour before curfew. You decide what you want to do."

Draco stammered and shook his head frantically. "I...I...she was supposed to wake up…today."

Blaise closed his eyes. Ginny squeezed his hand. No one said anything else. After two minutes, Ginny slowly stepped towards Draco. Blaise held her back, but she looked at him to let her go. He stayed close to her and Ginny returned to kneel beside Draco. She did not touch him.

"Draco..." she whispered. "Please come and eat. She wouldn't like to see you like this. You did what you could for today. She heard you. I'm sure she wanted to come back, but couldn't right now. But soon she will be. She will come back, I promise... Please, come and eat. Come with us."

The seated Slytherin did not move. Finally, without another word, he got to his feet, kissed Hermione's forehead and pressed his forehead to hers.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I couldn't bring you back today…"He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "Can you hold on a little longer?"

He kissed her lips with his, and Ginny looked down, feeling like an intruder in a moment of pure, intense intimacy. Draco left the infirmary with them. Outside, in the park, the two Slytherins and Ginny joined the two boys under a willow tree. The patrolling Aurors were watching them from afar. Lanterns had been lit and enchantments recited to prevent the cold from freezing the food.

Draco ate the food offered to him without appetite, under the black sky speckled with silver stars. He realised that being surrounded by three Gryffindors and a Slytherin was a little better than being alone.

When they all returned at curfew, Ginny walked Blaise back to the Slytherin common room. Through the silent corridors, hand in hand, they walked slowly.

"You're quiet," Blaise remarked.

The redheaded witch shrugged.

"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Blaise, concerned.

Unexpectedly, Ginny stopped in the middle of the corridor and shook her head. The next thing she knew she was bursting into tears. Blaise quickly pulled her close.

"I can't go on like this," she cried against his chest. "Everyone wants to be strong for Draco because he's the one who seems to be suffering the most, but—"

"But he's not the only one," Blaise guessed.

"No, he's not!"

Blaise stroked her hair gently and rocked her tenderly.

"She's my best friend too," she sobbed. "I miss her... It's hard for me too."

"I know..." the Slytherin breathed. "I know, Gin... For me too."

Ginny tightened her arms around the wizard. "He almost h-had me believing that she would w-wake up today," she sobbed. "I... I wanted to believe it too."

"I almost believed it too," Blaise whispered. He closed his eyes and rested his chin against the Gryffindor's head. After a moment, he took her face between his palms so that she could look at him.

"I couldn't imagine if it was you in her place..." he said.

He kissed her gently, absorbing her pain the best he could.

Ginny returned to her dormitory. When she entered through the portrait, Draco was standing in front of the fire with his back to her. As soon as he heard her enter the room, he turned and approached her. The moment he laid eyes on her face, he frowned.

"Did you cry?" he asked.

"No, Malfoy," she lied. "It's all right. I just want to sleep…"

She took a step aside to sit on the sofa, which was still her bed, but her partner blocked her way.

"This is not the time," she muttered, still avoiding his gaze.

"Look at me," he breathed. "Please."

She complied and looked up at him. His face was broken and she could see the despair on his face in the light of the flames.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way in the infirmary…"

"Let it go, Dra—"

"Did I hurt you?"

Ginny was surprised by his question, and opened her mouth, only to close it again. She decided to lie anyway, but Draco had seen the doubt on her face all too well.

"No," she answered.

So the Slytherin knew he'd hurt her, and he sighed. "Fuck!" he growled low.

Ginny said nothing. Draco looked at her again and took a step forward, as if offering something. The Gryffindor instinctively stepped back, and her face twitched in self-defense like she was expecting to be hit or grabbed. Draco felt the effect of a punch in the face. He felt the air leave his lungs.

"Don't be afraid of me, please…" he huffed.

He took another step forward. Ginny didn't move, keeping her arms firmly crossed. She still felt like crying. She couldn't look at Draco without thinking of Hermione.

"I'm sorry," Draco repeated. "Please, Ginny... you're important to Blaise, and you're important to Hermione, so... you're important to me."

Ginny pursed her lips as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. "I know you love her," she finally whispered. "Truly love her."

Draco swallowed the knot that painfully tightened his throat. "Yes," he confessed. "Yes, I do."

It felt fucking good to say it to someone.

"Please," he continued at his partner's obvious discomfort. "I'll never do anything like that again, I promise... I... I miss her. I just can't take it anymore..."

Hearing the same words she herself had spoken to Blaise a moment earlier, something snapped inside her and she let herself cry freely, turning her face away from the Slytherin.

"I miss her too," she cried. "I can't stand it anymore—"

Draco let down his barriers and hugged her. He felt Ginny's resistance at first, but soon she gave in completely and let herself be hugged. They held each other, taking refuge together in the painful absence of their favorite witch.

Over the next few days, Draco returned to the Forest. He continued his wanderings through the snow, but his goal became confused. He no longer knew exactly what he was looking for. Duncan? His energy had waned again, but he forced himself to eat his meals. He'd been writing back to his mother for weeks, apologizing and reassuring her. He didn't know what to hold on to anymore. Since Hermione hadn't returned on the 14th of February, no date mattered to him anymore. So he waited, kept visiting her every day to read his notes and the second volume of that fantasy story with Hobbits, Dwarves and Elves and you-name-it. At night he still slept in her room, drenched by her fading scent.

Harry and Draco continued their Patronus lessons. That evening, on Wednesday the 24th of February, before the lesson had even begun, Harry confronted the Slytherin.

"You know," he began, "I noticed you going off into the Forest... What are you looking for?"

Draco frowned in surprise at the question. "I thought it was obvious," he grumbled. "You know very well what I'm looking for!"

"You're looking for the Resurrection Stone, aren't you? Malfoy, I don't know where I dropped it! And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you! It wouldn't bring her back. Not like you think... And even if it did, she wouldn't belong to our world!"

The Slytherin was speechless for a few moments and didn't know what to say. He raised his arms in the air. "What the fuck are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry blinked. "What are YOU talking about?"

"I'm looking for anything that might help me locate Duncan. Any new tracks. Any fucking clue."

The emerald-eyed Gryffindor sighed harshly. He was relieved that the Slytherin didn't ask him more about the stone. That night, no sparks came from Draco's wand.

When Draco returned to the Forest the next day, his mind was foggy. Birds were chirping. The sky was white. He stopped among the skeletal trees. Inhale. He didn't know which way to go. Duncan had been in the Forest two months ago. Exhale. He would never find anything.

Absently, his wand rose. Inhale.

"Accio resurrection stone."

When nothing happened, Draco insulted himself. What had he hoped for?

He splintered a tree and the bark was blown in all directions.

Hermione was engulfed in darkness. She could not feel her limbs. She didn't know how long she had been in the dark, but gradually she began to make out some details. A chill. She was unable to move. Absolute silence.

She blinked. She was at the Owlery. It was night. She stood on the balcony and looked out. Time outside was suspended. Behind her, a figure approached her. Was she dreaming? Was she dead? She felt the movement of her hands, the beating of her heart. She felt like she was floating. Was she going crazy? Was she really at the Owlery?

A hand came to rest on her shoulder and Hermione jerked. Her breath caught in her throat as she pivoted. "Sam...Oh my God, Sam..." she cried.

She clung to his neck as her brother wrapped his arms around her. Her knees were shaking from the shock. Her words were stuck behind her teeth. His smell... His smell hadn't changed. She could smell him. It wasn't a dream. Her older brother looked down and a sad expression crossed his face as he opened his mouth.

"I'm so sorry you're here…"

"I can't believe I'm seeing you with my own eyes..." Hermione gasped.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He looked down and took her hand. The night wind swept through their hair. They looked into each other's eyes.

She had missed his brown eyes so much! She had hoped for months to see them again, if only one last time... "I swear, if I could have gone back in time and erased it, I would have," she admitted.

"You can't change the past, Hermione, that's for sure," he replied in a breath without looking at her. "What's done is done."

She looked down and suddenly realised that she had no idea why she was at the Owlery. The castle seemed asleep. It might have been paradise, but she and her brother seemed alone in the world, isolated from everything.

"Why am I here?" she asked. "I don't remember coming up here."

He looked deep into her eyes, trying to decipher some kind of insight, but she didn't seem to know anything. With a breath, he replied.

"We are nowhere. This is all in your head."

Hermione frowned. It all seemed real to her, though. "Is this a dream?" she asked.

"In a way."

The witch swallowed her breath and a ton of ideas raced through her mind. Why didn't he say more details? Was he waiting for her to figure it out herself?

"And... what does that mean, exactly?" she stammered.

"You're in a coma."

Her eyes widened and a question burned through her lips. "Wait, you mean I'm...physically 'dead' right now?"

He looked away. "Your body is still breathing."

"Why am I seeing you?"

Sam pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He looked out the window at the horizon. "I'm not really here, I hope you understand that," he breathed.

Hermione felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.

"Hermy, as soon as you fell into a coma you appeared here. No one knows how long."

"Will I come back, then?"

"I don't know. It's not up to me."

The brunette closed her eyes, almost expecting to see her brother disappear as soon as she opened them again. But he was still there, firm and steady at her side.

"What happened that day… with Duncan," she murmured.

He closed his eyes as well and sighed.

"I panicked," he admitted. "I didn't know what to do. I wondered what that guy was doing here. When I realised he was threatening you, I fought back. I didn't think."

Hermione didn't answer. She remembered witnessing this scene in Duncan's mind.

"Everything that happened to you after that was because of me," he said.

"No," she replied weakly.

"But I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm really sorry. I was careless, and I couldn't protect you from him."

"It's not your fault."

She recalled a thousand and one memories with her brother. Happy memories that made her shiver. Then she remembered how much she hated life after her brother's death. How she had wanted to stop living, stop everything, stop fighting. Yet all of this had given her the chance to find out who Draco was. And Blaise. And to connect even more closely with Harry, Ginny and Ron.

"If this is all in my head," she said, "then where am I really?"

"Your spirit is in a place called Neverwhere."

Hermione blinked and nearly snorted. "Neverwhere, really?"

"It's a peaceful place," he replied. "Between life and death, a bit."

"But if I'm not dead and you are... why are you here?"

"Every soul that comes to Neverwhere meets a dead person they loved."

Sam pursed his lips. "When I got here, that was Angela for me."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"She walked with me to my death," he continued. "I had no choice, my body on earth could no longer receive me. But you…"

He turned his eyes on his sister. "I am not here to guide you to your death. That is your choice. You can come with me, and I will guide you to the end, or you can leave Neverwhere and return to yourself."

Everything was going by too fast in the brunette's head. "I-I don't understand," she finally said. "Am I allowed to leave?"

"It's not a question of being allowed," he replied. "Your body on earth is weakening. It needs to be inhabited. If you don't return to it, it will fade away painlessly. But you will find peace and you will be able to accompany a loved one when his time comes and he appears here."

Here was a second chance. Hot tears rolled down Hermione's cheeks as she clutched her head in her hands. She had no choice to make. She knew where she wanted to go. She was going to leave Sam a second time, but she knew he was right where he was. She was crying because she had left her friends and Draco, she was crying because she had hurt everyone around her so much. Everyone had risked their lives for her, and she didn't know what had become of those she loved.

"You're a good person, Hermione," said her older brother.

She shook her head. Did he hear her thoughts?

"I've wanted to be with you before," she admitted in a small voice. "Die, I mean…"

"I know…"

"I know that the reason Blaise stopped me from jumping was to make me realise this."

"Nothing happens for nothing, you should know that. I'm watching over you. Even if you don't feel me, even if you don't see me. I am here. I'm with you."

"You've changed, Sam, she said. "Your words are wise, mature and…comforting."

"I'm here to make you understand as best I can."

"If I go back there, what should I do with... Duncan?"

"You'll know in time. All justice is restored eventually."

"What's going to happen when I wake up?" the girl whispered to herself.

"You will be in pain. The journey back to your body will be painful. Very."

"I don't want to leave you now that I've found you..." she breathed, feeling the tears prickle her voice. "The last time I spoke to you was... that—"

She burst into tears and her brother hugged her again. "We had a fight," she cried. "I'm so sorry."

"I know... I am too. But Hermy…"

He pulled her away from him so she could look at him. "Forgive yourself," he breathed. "You can't be at peace until you accept what's happened. Accept the transformation you've gone through. The loss of a loved one changes a person. Don't blame yourself. Don't feel guilty. I knew you loved me the very moment I... left.

Hermione dried her tears and gave him a weak smile. "I love you, litte rat," she said.

"I love you too, dorkface," he smiled.

She wriggled her hands and noticed how his face was glowing. She smiled back and came into his arms as he opened them. They held each other for a few seconds more, then Sam lifted her off him and said:

"I'm going to miss you…" he sighed.

"I'll miss you too."

She took a breath. "How do I get back?"

"You jump."

The brunette widened her eyes and looked down. She knew she was at the top of the Owlery, but she couldn't see the bottom. She swallowed.

"Will I remember any of this?" she asked as she gestured to the entire Owlery with her hands.

"Yes, probably," he replied. "You know, time does not exist in the same way in Neverwhere."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You appeared here when you fell into a coma, but no one can really know how much time you spent talking to me."

Hermione felt herself panting.

"We'll meet again, little sis," her brother smiled.

She took his hand, squeezed it. She absorbed her brother's face. His cheekbones. His slightly longer front teeth. His thick brown hair.

"Goodbye, Sam," she whispered.

"Goodbye, Hermione."

She smiled, let go of his hand and looked back at the horizon, repeating to herself 'Don't look back, don't look back'. She thought, I love you, Sam, no question about it. She closed her eyes and a tingling sensation ran through her. She breathed in and let herself fall forward. Into the void.

A stabbing pain shot through her. A fire ravaged her head, enveloped every vertebra in her neck and even her shoulders. It was like smelling ammonia and gasping for breath, she choked to catch her breath, but the oxygen was gone. And voices, vibrations began to reach her and echoed in her head. Check the lung for punctures.

Her tears wanted to come out, to spill out of her eyes until they drained an ocean, but her body was empty. Yet she was conscious. She knew it. All those whispers, they didn't come from her, but from those around her. When he had dressed, Frodo found that while he slept the Ring had been hung about his neck on a new chain, light but strong. Perhaps she was dead? Perhaps this was death... She wanted to be killed at once, but she could not order anything. The fire did not seem to go out. And her blood seemed to start flowing again. I need you. I'm… I'm not doing okay.

She had no memory of what had happened. She only tried to find the beginning of this calamity, but she didn't know how long she had been there enduring this internal fire or how long it would last. It was too painful. Unbearable. Why hadn't she come back yet? I can actually stand Freckles.

Her eyes could not see or move. She was swaddled in a cloud of darkness. Like a miracle, the fire disappeared completely.

It was like being alive again. She wanted to open her eyes, since she was no longer in pain, but her eyelids were pinned to her face. Can you hold on a little longer? She wanted to reach out to hold anything, but her limbs were paralyzed. Yet her senses were alert. She was conscious, she could swear that. Hermione? Hermione, can you hear me? Your eyes are moving! She shuddered and suddenly her memory came back and hit her hard. That night in the forest. He had been there. He had come for her and he had tortured her, drained her of her blood before running away.

The darkness still surrounded her. She could hear noises around her. Madam Pomfrey! Call the Healer! Slowly she took a long breath. She was finally breathing. She exhaled. How wonderful! There was no pain anywhere, the fire was completely gone.

"Hermione? Hermione, look at me!"

With all the strength she still held, she snapped her eyes open.

Sometimes we break so beautiful
And you know you're not the only one
I breathe you in so sweet and powerful
Like a wildfire burning up inside my lungs

SYML, Wildfire

oOoOoOoOo

Hello my lovely readers,

Thank you for reading this long chapter, I hope it was up to your expectations! I wonder what you thought about all of it, there is so much content in this one! I want to thank fully my alpha Angelina but also my beta/alpha Wise_Owl26 for their ideas and creativity for this one, especially about the tapestry. I had to find a way to make Draco discover the true identity of Duncan and these guys helped me so much :') And oooooh, I'm so glad you finally "met" Samuel Granger! And the damn Patronus, finally!

Also, I'm letting you know that from now on, I will be posting once a week, on Tuesdays. I'm pretty busy with school work and work, and I don't want to leave you on the edge of your seat for weeks before each chapter.

Love, Axiomea